


That's What Kids Are Calling It These Days

by milka121



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: M/M, Sojiro needs a nap, Stupid Teenagers being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 12:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14790482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milka121/pseuds/milka121
Summary: It's hard being a caretaker. Especially Akira Kurusu's caretaker.





	That's What Kids Are Calling It These Days

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all it's ya girl again  
> I have no idea how I managed to write a third short fic about ShuAke in one week but here we are again huh

Sojiro liked to think he’s open-minded, and a good caretaker, overall. Just look at Futaba. Right, she didn’t leave her room for a long time, but she grew up to be a kind and beautiful young woman Sojiro could be proud of. And Sojiro would never admit it out loud, but after some time spent with the boy, Sojiro came to think of Akira as his son, too. And as a good parent, he wanted to fulfill his role as such figure in Akira’s life, giving him all the scolding and support the boy might need.

Which left him in a tight spot right now, because he couldn’t decide on which one of those two Akira needed right now.

Sojiro cleared his throat, announcing his presence - and it worked miraculously. Akira jumped back so suddenly he hit the drawers behind him with a loud sound.

The other boy sent Sojiro a big smile - an obvious lie. “Good morning, mister-”

Sojiro ignored him. “Care to explain what happened?” he asked, glaring at Akira.

Akira looked somewhere to the side and nervously wiped his glasses with his hand. A bad idea - it only smeared coffee even more on the glass. Or maybe that was the point, Sojiro didn’t know.

The point here was, Akira was standing with a pot of newly brewed, steaming coffee - mocha matari, judging from the smell of it. And that, in itself, would be even okay. 

If the pot wasn’t half-empty, with another half of coffee visibly dripping from the boy at the stool. Well, anyway, he had to be sitting at the stool earlier. Sojiro really couldn’t blame him for getting up if he got hot coffee all over his once white shirt. And trousers. And shoes.

And in the last act of malice, the customer’s hair was full of something that looked like cream Sojiro has specifically bought as an complement for the new type of coffee beans he bought just yesterday.

Sojiro scowled.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Akira mumbled as soon as he regained his balance.

“It really isn’t,” the coffee-soaked boy added. “We were just… uh…”

“I mean…”

Oh, what a compassionate boy. He had to realise Sojiro was Akira’s boss, and even after being drenched with coffee so hot his face was covered in first-degree burns, if the redness of it was any indication, he had decided to protect Akira from Sojiro’s wrath. What a pleasant boy, indeed.

“Out,” Sojiro growled. Akira blinked slowly, as if not understanding the word, but one look from Sojiro was enough to make him all but run upstairs.

Fifteen minutes later, after lending the customer a towel and free coffee and apologizing profoundly, the boy, whose name turned out to be Goro Akechi, left the shop in a more or less presentable state. Sojiro sighed, then yelled at Akira, then yelled at Morgana when the cat tried to drink the coffee from the floor, and again yelled at Akira to clean his mess up. 

Akira simply bowed his head and put up with everything. Maybe he learned his lesson. Sojiro felt more or less accomplished.

He was pretty sure he would not see the face of Goro Akechi in Leblanc ever again, after The Incident. The Incident was weird, but, okay. Teenagers these days do tend to be emotional. Nothing unusual, right? How much worse could it get, anyway? Akira wasn’t so stupid. No way he would ever try to do something weird again.

If only.

* * *

The next day, when Sojiro came to Leblanc to check if Akira has come back, he was not greeted by spilled coffee. He was also not greeted by Akira, which would be acceptable if Sojiro wasn’t technically supposed to take care of him. Well, there weren’t many places Akira could go; Sojiro sighed, grabbed a plate of curry (for the cat, mind you), and stepped on the stairs. A step creaked loudly under his feet.

Something in the attic hit the floor with a deafening  _ thud. _

“Oh, fuck-”

“You said-”

“Just-”

Sojiro looked inside the attic - and froze.

Akira was sitting at his bed, trying to look as nonchalant as possible - at least, as much as it was possible while being wrapped in a sheet. And also not-so-subtly trying to cover as much of the place under the bed with his body as he could.

Akira coughed. “Good day.”

“Boy,” Sojiro said calmly, “please ask your friend under the bed to come out. It must be awfully uncomfortable.”

Akira looked as if Sojiro just asked him to jump out of the window. “Sorry, what?”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” said the voice under the bed.

Sojiro raised his brow.

The expression on Akira’s face was more than just horrified. He swallowed visibly. “Would you believe me if I had an epileptic seizure right now?”

The look that Sojiro gave him was enough to make Akira shut up, and for the person under the bed to hit his head on the said bed.

“Fuck,” was heard again.

“Oh, shut up.” Akira kicked under the bed.

“Ow! You piece of-” The person under the bed started crawling out. And lo and behold, Sojiro’s eyes were met with the unmistakable figure of the Detective Prince himself, Goro Akechi. Without a sheet.

Sojiro stared.

Akechi’s face turned red when he grabbed a coverlet from the bed and wrapped it around himself.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Akira blurted out. 

Sojiro had a feeling he has heard that before.

“Well,” Sojiro said, “I definitely didn’t think it will turn out that way.”

“It really isn’t,” said Akechi. Despite all of his appearances on TV and mature attitude, he really was just a teenager. A teenager who made seemingly terrible choices, if he somehow ended up naked in an attic under Akira Kurusu’s bed.

“Of course,” Sojiro said in an understanding voice.

The horror in Akechi’s eyes could rival one’s of Akira, which was telling something. 

“Please don’t tell the press,” Akechi said - or rather begged.

For a second, Sojiro’s mind was flooded with visions of what would happen if he really did that; hoards of journalists charging in Leblanc, Akechi Goro’s face on every tabloid magazine, Kurusu being even more infamous than he is now… Nah, don’t worth it.

Sojiro sighed and rubbed his temples. “I don’t care what you two do here. Just don’t be loud, okay? There are other customers, too.”

“You- you have the wrong idea!” Akechi tried once again, when Sojiro turned back and made a step down the stairs. “We really- We  _ don’t _ -”

“We just wanted to make up,” Akira said. “Really.”

Oh. So that’s what kids are calling it these days.

* * *

Akechi Goro has just had two most fucked up days in his life. And not in an usual, life-sucks-anyway kind of style, oh no. Because Kurusu Akira was involved. And Kurusu Akira always meant trouble, though even Goro didn’t expect it to come so far.

Getting into a coffee-spilling fight - oh, that was believable, and almost okay with Goro. It’s not like he didn’t provoke Akira, after all - but, hell, it burned, and also he still wasn’t completely sure he washed off the cream completely off his hair. But, again - if that ended here, Akechi would be  _ okay _ with that.

The thing was, Kurusu not only found him - ambushed, rather - but  _ apologized  _ and insisted he should pay Akechi’s medical expenses. There weren’t any, though, and Akechi has informed Kurusu about it time and time again, but the idiot was too focused on dragging Akechi to some shady clinic in Yongen-Jaya to stop and listen. Then, when he actually  _ did  _ understand, he insisted Akechi come for a cup of coffee instead, since they went all the way there.

Akechi was weighting against both pros and cons of killing Kurusu right there, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, he sighed, followed Kurusu to his cafe, and resumed telling Kurusu that he was not burn at all, really. Kurusu didn’t believe him. Of course. So, naturally, Akechi stripped to prove his point.

He didn’t expect Kurusu to froze with  _ that _ expression on his face. He didn’t expect Kurusu to let out a breathy: “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” and kiss him on the mouth. And he definitely didn’t expect he, himself, would be so enthusiastic about this.

Until Akira shoved him under the bed, of course. 

“I hate you so fucking much,” he said after Akira’s caretaker walked out of their field of view. 

“Your dick begs to differ,” Akira replied with a smirk. 

What a fucking asshole, Akechi thought when he pressed a kiss against Akira’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> someone save Goro from this idiot
> 
> Also, if someone wants to beta-read my longer ShuAke fic, Murder of Crows (a bit more serious-aka-horrorfic about Akechi's Palace), please message me at [my tumblr](women-books-coffie.tumblr.com). Just need a reassurance I'm not getting too OOC, lmao.


End file.
